


Coins

by gingerswag



Series: Wander Home [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Middle Ages, Past Abuse, Past Forced Prostitution, Past Prostitution, Past Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerswag/pseuds/gingerswag
Summary: Two days before they go to market, Cas pulls Dean aside, and tries to teach him the value of coins.Oneshot for my verse Wander Home. Set two days before the start of Market Day.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Wander Home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147427
Comments: 58
Kudos: 148
Collections: Destiel ✦ The Road To Freedom





	Coins

Two days before they go to market, Cas pulls Dean aside, and sits him down at the kitchen table.

He pours his purse out onto the surface between them, so that the money is scattered in a loose pile between them.

“What do you know of coins?” He asks Dean, and the boy stares back at him with wide eyes.

“It’s alright to know nothing,” he amends, after a moment passes and Dean does nothing more than breathe.

He tries to keep his face open and kind, his tone of voice understanding.

He has no idea, from Dean’s lack of reaction, of whether or not he succeeds.

It’s again a long moment of nothing that stretches between them, and Cas tries to be patient as he waits for Dean to find a way to answer.

He knows now that the boy needs that long moment, sometimes, especially when he’s taken off guard. He knows now that that silence means he’s scared, and that the best thing he can do is let Dean take whatever time he needs to construct the response that makes him feel the safest.

His calm pays off, and it’s only a matter of seconds before Dean finally answers, in that soft, barely there voice he falls into when he’s nervous.

“People use coins to buy things,” he whispers, and Cas waits another few seconds to see if there is anything more.

But that seems to be all, that seems to be all Dean is right now prepared to say.

So Cas just nods, and tries to smile at him.

“That’s right,” he says encouragingly, and he can see Dean’s shoulder’s relax at his positive reaction.

It hurts, to see how scared Dean still is of him, to think of how long he’d mulled over just that one simple sentence before saying it, not daring to say anything else.

It hurts, but it is what it is, and Cas can do nothing but try to understand it.

“Have you ever bought anything with coin yourself?” He asks gently, and Dean bites his lip, looking away.

“Got sent to market, to fetch things. Sam had to count out the coins though. I’m too stupid to do it by myself.”

“You are _not_ stupid,” Cas says right back fiercely. Dean flinches like he’s been struck.

_Fuck._

He takes a breath, then tries again, in a much calmer tone of voice.

“You’re not stupid, Dean,” he repeats, and Dean nods quickly, in mindless agreement.

Cas tries not to sigh out loud.

It’s not always this hard. It’s not always this bad.

Dean is always nervous, always skittish as a baby deer and about as fragile besides. Cas always has to watch his tone, watch his words, to look out for signs that Dean is suddenly becoming afraid.

But it’s not always this bad. It isn’t this bad at all, usually.

It’s been a point of pride in his heart, if he’s being honest, how much more relaxed Dean has become over the past few weeks. He’s still jumpy, still punctuates every few minutes of conversation with a polite “Sir.” But more and more, as the days have worn on it has felt like Dean has begun to trust him.

When he jumps, he jumps towards Cas. When he feels anxious, he seeks out Cas’s company. He’d even been brave enough a few days ago to shout at him, and then had felt safe enough after that to allow Cas to hold him as he calmed down.

The boy is not unafraid of Cas entirely, but generally seems to believe that he’s more likely to offer protection than pain, and that his presence offers more safety than Dean would find on his own. Most of the time, he seems happier to be around Cas than anyone besides his father has ever been.

That’s most of the time, though. Most of the time.

Some of the time, Dean gets like this. Some of the time, something Cas does or asks him seems to scare him, and he flinched away from Cas like he has no hope that he won’t be beaten.

 _He’s frightened,_ Cas reminds himself. _It’s not personal. He’s nervous because he doesn’t know much about money, and he’s scared you’re going to be mad at him. It’s not anything you’ve done wrong, other than bringing up this topic._

But he couldn’t avoid bringing up this topic. Because they are going to market in two days, and Dean needs to know how to use coins.

“Dean,” he says, keeping his voice level and kind. “Do you know what any of these coins are worth? Or what they’re named? It’s ok if you don’t, I’ll teach you.”

Dean goes painfully still, and he looks at Cas like Cas has just caught him in a lie.

_It’s alright, Dean. It’s alright. I already know you don’t know your coins._

“You’re gonna be mad,” Dean whispers, except he doesn’t say it like that.

He says it like a question, like, “You’re gonna be mad?”

As if he’s asking Cas, rather than warning him.

Cas answers.

“Of course not, Dean. Of course I won’t be mad. Do you know any of them? You can say no, I won’t be angry.”

Dean’s large eyes stare at him searchingly for a few infinite seconds. Cas doesn’t know what he’s looking for, doesn’t know how to help him find it.

Eventually Dean’s gaze drops to the coins between them.

Such unintimidating objects, to Cas. Such frightening things, clearly, to Dean, laden with unspoken expectations that he can’t seem to convince Dean he doesn’t have.

Dean huffs out a breath, and seems to steel himself.

Tentatively, he reaches out, and touches one small coin with the tip of his finger.

“That one’s called a penny, I think,” he says quietly, and looks back to Cas for confirmation.

Cas nods, and tries to smile at him.

Dean doesn’t react beyond looking mildly less terrified.

“Do you know what it’s worth?”

Dean nods.

“A blowjob,” he says quietly.

Cas’s heart skips a beat at the words, spoken in Dean’s soft, matter of fact voice.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his breath is caught in his throat.

Dean doesn’t seem to notice his discombobulation.

“Two are worth a fuck,” he continues, bluntly, earnestly. “And five are worth the whore for the whole night. Is that right?”

He looks at Cas inquisitively, completely serious, as if he thinks Cas has the remotest idea what whores cost, as if whatever the bastard who’d owned him had charged for him is some sort of standardized price.

Cas has no knowledge of what most whores charge for their services. He knows, though, because he knows how money works, that it should be much more than what Dean has just named.

A penny. A _penny._

It’s pitiful amount. An amount any passing vagabond could have afforded.

He charges his customers a penny for a cup of ale, at his inn.

“I-” he chokes. “I meant. What it’s worth in relation to other coins, Dean.”

Ridiculously, it is this that finally makes Dean blush.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “No, I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t know that.”

_God almighty._

He closes his eyes for a moment, to get his emotions under control.

God. _God._ Dean can’t go through the world like this. He can’t go through the world not knowing what coins are worth, having only a warped idea of their value in terms of sexual labor, having no understanding of how to get what he needs other than by offering his body.

The memory Dean trying to buy any amount of food or drink from him with a few worthless coins comes to his mind unbidden. The worthless coins he’d been tossed in exchange for his body, which he’d accepted without having any idea what they were worth.

God.

_He’s here now. He’s safe with you, now. No one will ever pay pocket change to rape him again. No one will ever rape him again, period._

Cas will keep this boy from harm, no matter what it takes.

He opens his eyes.

Dean is staring at the floor in shame.

“It’s alright, Dean. I’ll teach you.”

The boy shakes his head.

“I’m too stupid to learn.”

“You are not,” Cas says flatly. “You’re not stupid at all. Sit up, Dean. Come on. I’m going to teach you about coins.”

_I’m going to teach you, and you’re going to learn, and there will be one less part of you that is vulnerable to exploitation._

“There are four types of coins. Well, actually there are five, but no one but the nobility actually deal in pounds.”

He pushes one of each coin type out of the loose pile and towards Dean, so they form a line right in front of where he’s sitting.

“There are farthings, pennies, shillings, and crowns. Farthings, pennies, shillings, and crowns.”

He points at each coin as he says its name.

“Farthing, penny, shilling, and crown. Now you try.”

Dean looks up at him, startled.

Cas stares right back.

He tries to look kind, to look understanding, but also doesn’t tell Dean he doesn’t have to do it.

He can do it. Dean isn’t stupid. He’s just scared.

Cas needs to show him he doesn’t have to be.

_Knowledge is nothing to be afraid of, Dean._

Dean’s eyes flicker back down to the coins.

Hesitantly, he reaches out to point at each with his index finger.

“Farthing, penny, shilling, crown.” he repeats, quiet as a mouse.

“Perfect,” Cas says. “Now do it again.”

Dean does.

"Farthing, penny, shilling, crown.”

“Wonderful.”

Cas pushes the coins around, so they are in line again, but out of order this time.

“Try it now.”

Dean swallows.

“That one is the farthing,” he says quietly. “That one is the penny. That one…is the shilling?”

“That’s correct.”

“And that one is the crown.”

“Excellent,” Cas says warmly. “I told you you could do it.”

Dean, with his head still ducked, looks up at him sullenly from beneath his lashes.

He looks supremely unimpressed.

It shouldn’t make him want to smile, that Dean is still so sure of his own incompetence. But the sulky glare is closest thing he’s seen to defiance so far from the boy thus far, the closest thing he’s seen to open disagreement, if he doesn’t count the panicked shouting Dean had worked himself up to when baking bread.

That had been more blatant, but it had also been borne of some sort of fit of hysteria. Dean had obviously not been in his right mind, then, and he obviously is right now.

The glare is the first true sign of normal teenage attitude, the first sign of genuine irritation Dean has felt comfortable showing. It makes Cas feel like dancing in celebration.

He doesn’t, though, doesn’t even let his lips quirk up in amusement. He knows the trust is tentative. If he draws attention to Dean’s reaction, the boy's true feelings will skitter away like a startled bird.

Dean is an animal that must be handled delicately.

“I’ll just forget them, again,” Dean mutters, and the pessimistic protest makes Cas want to grin.

His absolute terror at being caught not knowing his coins seems to have evaporated, leaving a sulky self depreciation in its place.

Cas doesn’t know what he did right, doesn’t know at what point Dean had stopped trying to hide his ignorance in fear and instead started trying to prove it out of resentment. But he finds it hard not to smile, at the change. He’d take a reluctant Dean over an eager one any day, if the eagerness only exists because he’s afraid of pushing back.

“You won’t forget them,” Cas assures, and Dean glares harder.

“I will,” he argues, and Cas has to make the conscious effort not to beam. “I’ve learned all this before. Sam tried to show me. I’m too stupid, I always forget.”

“You’re not stupid,” Cas says again, and Dean huffs. “And you’re not going to forget this time. Everyone forgets knowledge they don’t actually use. You’re going to be using this knowledge, now, so you aren’t going to forget it.”

Dean scoffs.

“I can’t use money. I don’t know how.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and tries not to let the exasperation seep into his voice. “That’s why I’m teaching you. Literally right now.”

Dean doesn’t respond, for a moment. He just stares down at the floor in silence, and scuffs his feet against the ground.

Eventually, he mumbles something that Cas can’t quite hear.

“What was that, Dean?” he asks, and Dean flinches away.

“I mean, I didn’t hear you,” he adds quickly, realizing Dean might have taken his answer as evidence of anger.

Dean seems to process this, slowly.

He lifts his head up, slightly, so Cas can at least see his eyes.

“I said,” he mutters, just barely audible. “I don’t. Want to learn.”

It’s not an unexpected response, though Dean looks at him like he thinks Cas might make a dive for him.

Cas just sighs.

“Don’t want to? Or don’t think you can?”

Dean curls into himself even more.

He’s starting to look afraid again, and Cas has to resist the urge to backtrack.

He wants to tell Dean that it’s ok, to remind him that he doesn’t have to come to market, to reassure him that he doesn’t have to learn.

But it isn’t true. He does have to learn. Not so that he can help Cas at the inn, but so he can take care of himself when Cas isn’t around. 

How else can he grow into a free and self-reliant adult? How else can he ever move away from dependence?

Cas wants to protect Dean. He wants to protect Dean from the whole world. But the truth is, he can’t just keep the young man stashed in his kitchen for the rest of time, making decisions for him, keeping him away from any stranger who might have the intention to hurt him.

No. The only way to really protect Dean from exploitation is to help him protect himself.

“I don’t know what the coins mean,” Dean confesses. He sounds like he’s pleading with Cas, pleading with Cas to just accept this about him.

Cas has to harden his heart against the impulse to do so.

“I know, Dean. I’m going to tell you.”

“No,” Dean insists, and he sounds miserable. “No, you don’t get it. You don’t _get_ it. I’m. I’m too stupid. I don’t understand. John always got so _mad_ at me.”

His voice breaks on the word mad, and Cas’s heart breaks with it.

“What don’t you understand, Dean?”

Dean doesn’t answer.

“You can ask me, Dean. It’s ok. I’m not going to get angry at you.”

The boy closes his eyes.

His shoulders, which had been curled defensively almost up to his ears, drop. His body, stiff and tense, seems to collapse.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks resigned.

“John would send me out to make money on the street,” he starts blankly. “I didn’t…I wasn’t very good at it. I mean, I would ask the men for money after they fucked me. But sometimes they wouldn’t give me any. And even when they did….I don’t know. I’m too stupid. John was always mad at me for not making enough. Even when I thought. Even though I would bring back-”

He cuts himself off, and looks away.

Like he’s ashamed. Ashamed of not understanding what no one ever explained to him.

“Even though what, Dean?”

Cas tries to sound gentle.

Tries to sound like he understands.

He does understand.

 _It’s so unfair,_ he thinks. _You’ve been treated so unfairly, Dean._

“Nothing,” Dean mutters, refusing to look up. 

Again, Cas can’t help but sigh.

“Even though you brought back a lot of coins?”

Dean’s head jerks up in surprise.

Sympathy stabs through Cas’s chest like a knife.

Dean looks at him like he’s done a magic trick, like he’s pulled Dean’s thoughts from his mind.

He doesn’t understand how Cas could guess the problem. Because he doesn’t understand how money works. It’s as mysterious to him as the ocean.

“I thought he’d be pleased with me,” Dean admits.

His voice is quiet, lost.

Cas’s sadness feels the same.

Cas wonders how many times Dean has been beaten without the remotest understanding of why.

“Dean, can you show me which coins you would bring back, mostly?”

Predictably, Dean points to the farthing, and Cas wants to cry with frustration.

It seems the man who Dean had sucked off the first evening was not the first person to use the boy’s money ignorance against him.

“That’s…I’m sorry, Dean,” he explains, sadness feeling dulled and beaten down. “Those men were taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t know your coins. That’s the smallest one.”

Dean frowns.

“But they’re all the same size, Sir."

“I mean. It’s the smallest value, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t look like he’s following.

Carefully, Cas pushes aside the pile of coins, so that there is only a blank space between them.

In the space, Cas places one penny. Next to it, he places a pile of four farthings.

“These are equal,” he tells the other boy. “A penny is worth four farthings.”

Dean blinks.

He blinks again.

“Oh.” He says. “No one…told me that.”

 _Of course they didn’t,_ Cas thinks. _As long as you’re ignorant, you can’t stand up for yourself. As long as you’re ignorant, you have to rely on the people who want to hurt you._

“I’m sorry,” is what he says. He has nothing else to offer.

“He could have just told me that,” Dean mumbles, seemingly to himself. “I would have done better. Why didn’t he just tell me that?”

He sound very very young, and very very vulnerable.

Cas doesn't say anything in response.

He doesn’t have an answer that is anything Dean would want to hear.

**Author's Note:**

> Ao3 users Confused_SPN_Fan and Kingnick104 requested the scene where cas teaches dean about coins. im super not happy with this one but im tired of fighting it and i have to get on and do homework so screw it.
> 
> As always you can come give me prompts or just talk to me at https://ao3gingerswag.tumblr.com/ :)


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